Pirate Me
by Character Sketches
Summary: Sick of those cliche Lily and James fall in love stories? Read way too many stories about Ron and Hermione bickering? Look no further. Here, it's all about the unsailed ships, those that need pirating. ::Character sketches collaboration::


**FORBIDDEN FRUIT **

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_Ron and Fleur … _

BY MATOAKA WILDE

He strained to keep his eyes open as the night progressed into early morning. The muscles around them ached and his eyelids kept fluttering, fighting to override his will to remain awake.

Hermione lay beside him, completely knocked out. It had been a long day. The baby had begun crying at 5:30 AM; the whole family had been up at 6. They'd showered, dressed, packed overnight bags, then Rose's diaper had needed changing, then she needed to eat, and did anyone leave food out for Crookshanks?

Next they'd all gotten into the car, the fuel had been low, they had to stop for some, then drive to Hermione's parents' where they had lunch and awkward conversation, Rose's diaper had needed changing again, they exchanged gifts, said good-byes, got back in car, drove back home, and the baby won't stop crying, so then her diaper had to be changed again, and before they could floo to Harry and Ginny's Hermione said she needed to 'fix her hair'.

Ron had to get the bags with their pajamas and tomorrow's clothes together, Hermione had to give Rose a bath, then they had to floo to Harry and Ginny's. They visited, had cocktails at Ginny's insistence, and didn't watch the clock, so then they're all late for the Burrow.

Then Ron, Harry, and their families' had to floo to the Burrow, and they all said hello to everyone they ran into. Ron then had to make his way through clusters of people to hug his mum and dad, his mum seemed really distracted, and almost doesn't notice him. Then he'd started at least ten unfinished conversations, stepped outside for some air, reflected upon his life, and went back inside for Christmas dinner.

At dinner he'd watched George drink too much wine, Ginny and Hermione laugh at inside jokes, Bill struggle with conversation with mum, James throw up on Harry's shirt, and Percy and Audrey tell everyone boring stories about finding the perfect flat in London. Then dinner was over.

Next they'd all sat around the tree and listened to annoying Christmas music, had eggnog and cookies, opened presents, and then Ron had looked around and wondered, _Where's George?_

When all the presents had been opened the group had dispersed. Children begin to get sleepy; Ron and Harry had had a personal conversation about their children, wives, and jobs. Ron had tried to talk to George, but George only mumbled incoherent replies and stared off into space, next Ron had gone to Charlie and asked him how things were going, but he hadn't listened to Charlie's reply. Then he'd said good-bye to Harry and Ginny and everyone else who wasn't staying the night.

After all who were going to leave had left, and the Burrow became a bit quieter, Ron watched his mum cry while she washed the dishes, Fleur at her side, helping her and comforting her. He'd stared at Fleur's arse, her hair; he'd wondered what it would be like to have sex with her.

Then Hermione had walked up to him, told him to come to bed, that Rose was fast asleep. He'd put on his pyjamas and brushed his teeth. Then he had laid in bed and kissed Hermione, touched her arse. But she'd pulled away, said she was tired, and fell asleep almost immediately. So Ron had just stared at her sleep, then he turned around and stared at Rose sleep. Then he fell asleep.

It had been a peaceful sleep, free of the anxiety of nightmares or dreams. It was a velvety black sleep that he'd been ripped out of by the hysterical crying of his daughter, Rose.

Before he'd 'officially' woke up, he'd waited for Hermione to take care of the crying baby—with no such luck. She remained as deep in sleep as ever. So Ron got up and held Rose, rocking her back and forth, whispering dirty jokes and lullabies.

Eventually she'd stopped crying, but did not show any signs of going back to sleep. She stared at Ron through the bars of her crib. How could he sleep with her staring at him like that? _But he was so tired…_

Ron's eyes fell closed for a moment.

"Gah! Ahhh!" said Rose, smiling.

Ron's eyes shot open. "Won't let me get a bit of sleep tonight, will you?" Ron looked at his gurgling daughter with a weary grin. "You think it's funny torturing your ole dad?"

Her mouth opened up, but instead of words, the only thing that left her lips was a spit bubble. Ron laughed. He was tired. Anything could be amusing.

Rose stood up in her crib, her chubby legs barely holding her, her hands grabbing onto the bars.

"Do you want to come out?" Ron asked Rose, then imitating Percy, adding, "Take a walk about the grounds perhaps?"

"Eeeiii!" Rose replied gaily.

"Why not?" Ron says to no one in particular. He knows he's not going to sleep if he stays here anyway. But maybe he can get Rose to sleep.

He picks her up and she goes willingly into his arms.

First they visit the garden. Ron tells Rose about all the times he was sent out here to de-gnome it with his siblings. He walks around the yard describing how it looked on the day of Bill and Fleur's wedding. Whiles he babbling to Rose he begins to talk about how beautiful Fleur looked that day.

Rose rests her head on Ron's shoulder. He pushes her knitted cap down on her head, trying to make it fit more snugly. It's cold outside. Hermione would be screaming if she knew he was wondering around the yard with Rose in the middle of the night.

As he walks back into the house with Rose asleep in his arms, he notices snow beginning to fall.

Inside he is greeted by warmth and familiar smells. He could fall asleep right there, standing up. He plans to go straight to bed—no questions asked. But there's a light on in the kitchen. _Maybe someone forgot about it. _He goes to darken the room. When he reaches the doorframe he sees Fleur.

She is sitting at the table, a mug of tea between her hands. Ron doesn't consider not going to see her. He rests Rose on the couch and goes back to the kitchen door, continuing to stare at Fleur, whose head is down. He doesn't think she knows he's there. He stares at her, consumed by lust.

Fleur finally raises her head. No surprise shows on her face when she sees him.

"'Ave a zeat." She says, motioning to one of the chairs.

He sits in the one closest to her. From this intimate distance he can see the sadness in her face. She hasn't been crying, but she looks troubled, depressed. Before he can ask her why she says:

"Bill es angry with me." Her voice is low. "'Eh sayz I do not care about 'es family…but et es not true!" She rubs her eyes with her hand. She seems frustrated. "Just because I rather go to France for once…" she stops again, staring into her milky tea. Avoiding Ron's gaze.

His eyes never leave her. She continues.

"I told 'im, et es zad 'ere at Christmas, other times I assured were not, but not at the time of Christmas...I told 'im I 'ated coming." Fleur sounds incredibly guilty when she says this. She looks at Ron, as if waiting for him to yell at her.

"I know what you mean." He says. She blinks at the unanticipated remark. Ron goes on, "It's a hard time of year for mum. Sometimes I think she still expects Fred to—"

It's difficult for Ron to finish the sentence, because part of him doesn't want to think about what he's saying. After a pause he says, "She hasn't accepted Fred is gone, _forever_. She still knits him—and George he just sulks, drinks—dad pretends—"

He is too angry, too upset to elaborate any further. His throat closes. He thinks he might cry.

Then he feels a cool sensation greet his hand. Fleur has her own hand atop his. She looks at him with eyes that crave comfort as much as his own must.

"Sometimes I don't think it will ever get better." Ron says to Fleur before he feels her lips cover his own.

As soon as the first kiss ends another begins. Ron doesn't think about what he's doing, he just does it. He feels her breasts beneath her worn jumper; she places her hands by his ears, stroking the back of his head. At that moment nothing seems to matter. Everything seems dismal, beyond hope. _At least I can have this kiss, _Ron thinks.

He can feel Fleur's tongue against his own. Their kisses become longer, deeper, they are hungry.

Then suddenly it is over.

They look at each other with shame and embarrassment. Both regret what they have just done. They want to pretend it never happened. Their eyes lock in agreement; they will do just that.

Fleur leaves Ron sitting in the kitchen. He's still tired. But how is he supposed to go back and sleep next to Hermione? _She will know, _he chants in his head, _She will know. _

But when he does eventually decide to return to bed, Rose in tow, Hermione is still asleep. And when he crawls back into bed, blankets covering him, Hermione turns over in her sleep, unconsciously snuggling up to him.

He thinks about how beautiful her face is, how delicate her lips are, how he has always counted on her, needed her, loved her.

Before he closes his eyes he takes one of her hands in his and whispers, "I'm sorry."


End file.
